Fantastic Fazbear Family Circus
by mutiesquiddle
Summary: A Five Nights at Freddy's human circus AU; Detective Jeremy Fitzgerald's search for his friend's killer in the sleepy town of Colma, California leads him to a travelling circus, lead by the mysterious Fazbear family. Every moment he spends at the circus he seems to learn more and more, but he can feel his mind slipping away... can he uncover the truth and keep his sanity in time?
1. Prologue

**SIX WEEKS EARLIER**

* * *

"I'm sorry, Vince. She's gone."

The little trailer, pulled over at the side of the highway in the dead of night, was full of the sound of howling. Just one of a long convoy consisting of trucks, vans and moving vehicles, the door was held open, allowing the hot summer breeze to waft in. Every driver and passenger was arranged in or around the trailer, heads bowed in respect for the dead.

A tall, burly man in a housecoat stood next to the little camp bed, where a blanket covered a gruesome mass. One hand poked out from under the blanket, lifeless and cold; another rested upon the pillow. A third was being held by a man, kneeling next to the mattress, his head buried in the blanket. The howls, even muffled, were loud and piercing, full of melancholy; from a distance, one might have thought they belonged to a wolf or some other wild animal. The man himself seemed damaged and warped, but was nothing compared to the mangled creature under the quilt.

Half-formed words poured from the weeping man's mouth, completely uncomprehendable.

"What was that, sweetheart?" a woman asked, peeking out from behind the burly man in a calm, quiet voice.

The sobs softened, and then the weeping man raised his head. An old, worn-out eyepatch covered his left eye, and the other was red with tears. Scars and scratches marked his stubbly face; he looked like a terror.

"I said… leave me alone," he whimpered, his body wracked with sobs.

The sweet woman sighed loudly and waved her hands around impatiently. "Well, Vince… sweetie, we can't just leave her here. She'll start to rot, and –"

"I said, leave me alone!" the scarred man shouted, his one eye flashing; it was so loud and unexpected that everyone in the trailer jolted, startled. He turned his head fully towards the burly man and the woman behind him, mouth open in a snarl, whole body shaking. His teeth were chipped and sharp, like shards of glass stuck into his gums; it only added to his feral, wild look.

The burly man raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Everybody out!" he shouted, turning around. One by one the crew stepped off the trailer; the woman behind him groaned in frustration and waddled off pretentiously. Finally, he closed the door behind him and turned to the crowd, all standing in the tall grass next to the highway.

"We roll out in half an hour," the burly man shouted in a growl, still standing on the steps to the trailer. "On the dot. If you're not ready, we leave without you."

With a heavy groan, he plunked down the steps. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a man leaning against a large apple tree far into the field; even in the distance he could see the wafts of smoke drifting into the night sky from the man's cigarette. With yet another uncomfortable groan, he waddled towards the tree, the howls continuing behind him with absolute abandon.

The smoking man had his arms crossed and was looking into the night sky, seemingly disinterested with the world. "So?" he asked simply in a sharp, clear voice that always managed to send shivers down the burly man's spine.

"Dead," Burly Man grunted. "It's been coming for months."

Smoking Man didn't say a word, and instead continued puffing on his cigarette and looking up at the stars. Burly Man pulled a fat, thick cigar out of his housecoat pocket and lit up as well, his hands fidgeting uncomfortably. A few minutes passed in complete silence, just the two men smoking.

"We gonna bury her?" Smoking Man asked simply after a while.

A deep, throaty laugh came from Burly Man's throat, which quickly descended into hearty coughs. Once his fit passed, the Burly Man straightened up and sighed.

"Naw," he answered. "That girl's more valuable in death than she ever was in life… that's for fuckin' sure."

Smoking Man finally moved, turning his head slightly to fix one eye on his friend. He frowned just slightly, tossing the butt of his cigarette to the ground and promptly extinguishing it with his heel. "What do you mean?"

Burly Man turned to Smoking Man, leaning against the tree with his side. "The fuck do you think I mean? We haven't had an addition to the museum for… shit, two years I think. And Vince isn't letting her go that easily."

Smoking Man turned fully to Burly Man, eyebrows raised. "You're kidding."

Burly Man shook his head, a pompous smile on his thick face.

Another minute or so of silence followed as Smoking Man lit up another cigarette.

"That's fucked up, Fred," Smoking Man said finally, shaking his head. "Real fucked up. Vince'll never agree to that."

Burly Man turned, frowning as well now. "Well, I'm not giving Vince much of a fuckin' choice, am I?" He dropped the butt of his cigar to the ground as well, stamping on it viciously, before pointing a fat finger in his friend's face. "And you mind your own fuckin' business, you understand? This is my show. _My_ show."

Smoking Man returned his gaze steadily for a few seconds, looking for something in his partner's eyes… and then he simply shrugged, looking back up at the sky. "Alright."

Burly Man huffed pretentiously, straightening up and wrapping his housecoat tighter around him. "We leave in twenty. If you're not on the bus, we're leaving without you. Got it?"

Without waiting for an answer, Burly Man marched off, his thick body wobbling through the field. Smoking Man shook his head again, watching his friend leave, feeling the heavy pressure of the stars above him, staring down… judging all of them.


	2. August 5th

**WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 5th, 1987**

* * *

On July 24th, 1987, the body of Officer Fritz Smith was found on the shores of Colma Creek, dead.

Jeremy Fitzgerald sat at his desk in the police station in a daze, two weeks later, still in complete and absolute shock. He'd been spending most of his days like that, out of touch with reality and allowing it to simply pass by him; his coworkers, instead of inspiring him or consoling him, simply passed him by, giving him quick glances and subtle frowns. He was in a rut, lost to the memories and emotions running through his veins like blood.

As he sat there, his desktop fan gently blowing on his face, he tried his best to piece together exactly what had happened.

The Monday of that week, Fritz hadn't showed up to work. Even in high school and through college he'd been the party type, always causing trouble, pushing the rules, testing his limits. It seemed ironic that he would become a cop. Sometimes Jeremy liked to believe that he'd only went through with that career just because Jeremy decided it for himself first; Fritz was never good at making decisions. But despite all of his indecisiveness and foolish attitude, Fritz was a hard worker and he believed in what they did. Jeremy just assumed he'd finally found that limit, and took great entertainment in imagining his best friend at home, too hungover to pick up a phone, head in the toilet.

When Fritz didn't show up the next day either, Jeremy called his home. It was unusual that Fritz would've missed a whole day without so much as a call, but two days was certainly worrisome. His wife picked up the phone. Cheryl said he hadn't been home since the previous Saturday morning, when he'd stormed out of the house after a fight. Jeremy was royally pissed off that she hasn't told him sooner, but Cheryl wasn't exactly wife of the year, and he could practically smell the booze on her breath through the phone lines. He hung up, determined and frightened, and promptly filled out a missing persons form.

They searched every corner of the town, patrolling the Creek especially. Not a lot happened in Colma, so most of their force was free to investigate; they even dragged the dogs out. Jeremy tried his best to imagine his best friend some town over, partying hard and all boozed up… or in Vegas, like he'd always dreamed of travelling to. But something in his mind wouldn't permit it. He knew, like a knot in his stomach that just wouldn't budge, the absolute truth, but he just couldn't accept or acknowledge it until he saw it for himself. It wasn't until Friday morning, during their morning Creek patrol, that they found his body.

Even coated in a thick layer of grime and muck from the dirty river, Jeremy knew it was his friendly instantly. He was completely naked, skin paler than anyone Jeremy had ever seen, and bloated after days of submergence in the creek. He could see the bright veins and arteries through his skin, blue and red, like shocks of colourful lightning piercing through his flesh. His big chest tattoo, stretching from shoulder to shoulder, was seemingly faded… but clear as ever, he could read the big word: BRAVE. Gruesome as the sight was, it was nothing compared to the head.

Half of his scalp was torn off, the flesh hanging by loose strands of skin. There was no blood; the water had taken care of that. The bone was fresh and white, his skull gleaming like a pearl. Teeth marks lined the edges of the wound, deep fissures in his face and head like cracks in a rock wall. The other officers all looked away immediately, swearing under their breath and shaking their heads… but not Jeremy. He stared down at his friend for a solid minute before turning away and vomiting his breakfast on the shore. Even when all the food in his stomach was gone he kept on retching, spitting up foamy bile that stung his mouth. But he didn't care. He hardly felt a thing.

Fritz was gone.

That very morning he visited Cheryl and the kids personally. Cheryl (hungover or still drunk, he couldn't tell) collapsed where she was standing in the doorway into a messy puddle of tears. Only one of the three kids got up from the sofa where they were watching cartoons to see if their mother was all right. The other two barely looked up until Jeremy approached them directly and explained as best as he could why their father wouldn't be coming home. They hardly seemed fazed.

_Jesus Christ, what the hell would happen to those kids? _He remembered himself thinking.

That night he made his way back to his empty home and lay down in bed, fully clothed. He couldn't even cry for his own loss; he couldn't do anything. Instead he lay there until the sun rose, cutting a sharp red light through his curtains. He felt as empty as anyone ever could; a shell, a snakeskin, devoid of the humanity within.

And there he lay until his sister found him Saturday morning. She rang on the doorbell three times before opening the front door with a spare key under the welcome mat and hurrying up to his room.

"Jeremy," she said breathlessly. "I'm so sorry."

And then, finally, he could cry.

Jeremy shook his head as he felt his eyes tear up again. He couldn't think about that now; he was at work. He was a policer officer, and his friend had died, but that didn't mean that there wasn't work to do… but every time he tried to pull himself up from his chair he was overwhelmed with a feeling of emptiness.

Fritz was a good man. A damn good man who took care of his family and worked hard at his job and tried his best every goddamn day of his life. And now he was gone, just like that. No good bye, no thank you, no "you're welcomes". Just gone.

Jeremy bit his lower lip. Yes, there was a void. But there was an even more literal void within him in that very moment. He was hungry, and hungry as fuck. He hadn't eaten in what felt like days.

_Fritz would want you to keep going_, he thought to himself as he laid his hands on the arms of his wheel-legged chair. With all the energy he could muster he pulled himself to his feet, and stood for a moment next to his desk, wobbling like a drunk man.

Slowly, his face broke into a grin. He'd done it. Sometimes the hardest thing in the world was just making your way onto your feet and getting out of bed in the morning, and he'd done it.

Jeremy walked out of the little office he'd shared with Fritz and into the break room. A tiny fridge and kitchenette, a spindly wooden table coated in crumbs and newspapers, and that was all. Sitting on one of the many rickety chairs arranged around the table was another co-worker of his, a world-weary middle-aged woman named Theresa with a deep scar running from the corner of her eye to the corner of her mouth, tugging both slightly out of place. She was nursing a cup of coffee as she read the advice column from that day's paper.

_Fantastic_, Jeremy thought gloomily. _Just what I need._

Theresa wasn't exactly known for her cheeriness. She lifted her eyes to him as he walked past her to the toaster, and moved her head slightly to retain her gaze as he popped two pieces of slightly stale rye bread into the slots.

He turned around with a heavy sigh and leaned into the corner of the kitchenette. Theresa looked away hastily and Jeremy made a grimace-like smile. "Good morning, Theresa," he said, his voice hoarse and croaky. He cleared his throat, a little self-conscious; when was the last time he spoke out loud?

Theresa turned back again, slower this time. "Hey, Jeremy. How're you doing?"

Jeremy shrugged, inadvertently cracking his shoulders. "Just fine," he said as he cracked his neck. "Just fine."

Theresa nodded. "I'm not going to hold any punches, Jeremy," she said, shaking her head pityingly. "You look like shit. You look like real shit, Jeremy."

He frowned, his face slumping down. Normally he had a pretty positive expression, but for the past half month he'd been gloomy as all hell. "Well, thanks, Theresa," he said bitterly.

Theresa stood with a big groan and waddled over to the sink. She was the antipode of Jeremy, short and squat to his tall and spindly. She pushed the tap up and held her cup under the stream of water, rinsing carefully and tediously. "You're in a slump, kid. You gotta find a method."

He rolled his eyes, not even trying to hide it from her. "A method for what, exactly?"

"Coping," she said simply, fixing him with a condescending, motherly look. It wasn't exactly an expression that was foreign to him; she was less of a cop and more of a maternal figure for everyone in the force. "It's been two weeks and you haven't gotten off your ass for one day. Everyone's scared to shit of you."

"Why on earth would they be scared of me?" Jeremy asked, genuinely curious. He was by far the kindest, most innocent member of the force, and now that Fritz was gone, the youngest. It was almost a fault in his line of work; nobody took his seriously.

"Death does weird things to people, kiddo. Weird things," Theresa muttered, leaning against the sink and fixing him with that look. "You need to get out."

"And where should I go?" Jeremy countered, not even hiding his disrespect. The last thing he needed was someone telling him what he should do.

It wasn't for lack of trying, either, that he was stuck in the office all day. The Monday after they found Fritz's body he demanded they begin an investigation, but it never stuck; the Head of Department said it was obviously an animal attack, and even Jeremy couldn't disagree. But still he needed an answer, and something inside of him told him that there was more.

Theresa shrugged in front of him. "The circus is open now," she suggested. "Take your sister. How is she, anyway?"

"Angie? She's fine," Jeremy said, suddenly distracted. Fritz had been over the moon about the circus; he'd visited the camp several times while they were setting up. Jeremy never accompanied him, as circuses and carnivals scared the hell out of him, especially clowns.

"What this about the circus?" he asked her eagerly.

Encouraged by what she thought was her success in getting to him, she waddled back to the table and lifted the paper. "It's called the Fantastic Fazbear Family Circus," she said as enthusiastically as she could muster, tapping a finger to an ad. "Four rings! Just like the classics. The perfect pick-me-up. They've got a big bear who does tricks and all… Fritz could never shut up about it, anyway."

Jeremy frowned and grabbed the paper. The ad was small, and grainy in black and white; the font was old-fashioned, like an early 20th century Vaudeville poster. On a big starburst pattern there was a poorly edited picture of a big grizzly bear standing on two legs, its jaws open in a ferocious roar. Giant teeth poked out from its gaping mouth.

As clear as if it were before him, Jeremy could see Fritz's mangled head.

Fritz had spent a lot of time at the circus… around the bear.

Jeremy breathed in deeply and held it. The cogs in his mind were turning wildly. His imagination came alive as he imagined Fritz with the carnies, chatting away as he always did, as the bear was unloaded from its van behind him. Then, with a loud roar and a giant snap…

Jeremy exhaled deeply. "I think I might just do that, Theresa. Thank you."

Theresa grinned smugly. "Atta boy, Jeremy. Good to take your mind off of things."

The thought of going to a circus was less than ideal, but there was no reason why not to. Fritz had died after having been attacked by what was obviously an animal, and Colma wasn't exactly notorious for wild animal attacks… especially not in the middle of the summer, when food was plentiful. Even if nothing came up, it would be good to see what Fritz was so excited about. And maybe Theresa was right… it would be good for him to go out.

"Thank you, Theresa," Jeremy said, still staring down at the advertisement. "I really appreciate it."

Theresa smiled. "Well, time for me to get back to work. I suggest you do the same."

Jeremy nodded. Tomorrow he'd take Angie to the circus and see the show… she'd be happy to see him out of his house. And hopefully he could find something out about Fritz along the way.


	3. August 6th

**THURSDAY, AUGUST 6th, 1987**

* * *

Jeremy and Angie had been standing in line for about an hour. They'd arrived very early, but even then there had been a decent-sized line ahead of them. In a town like Colma there weren't a lot of strangers, especially not to a police officer or one of the only columnists in the city, so they hadn't been lonely… but still, Jeremy wished they'd leave him be.

He glanced around as Angie was busy talking to an old friend of their parents'. The entrance to the circus grounds was marked by a long gravel walkway, lined with big posters featuring the different acts with bright Christmas lights hanging between them, illuminating the hazy twilight. He spotted a poster for Chica, the Iron-Throated Woman, a portly woman depicted with a sword halfway down her throat; next to her was a poster for Ted, the Strong Man. The man looked huge and heavily muscled, lifting a cement block above his head with a fierce expression on his face.

As a child, Jeremy loved circuses. All the colours, sounds, smells and attractions nearly intoxicated him, pulling him back and forth into their little realm of endless wonder. But as an adult… he couldn't help but feel a little creeped out.

The circus grounds were all the way at the outside edge of town, and shows never played during the daytime. Of course, the fairgrounds were open all day, but hardly anyone came for the rides; they came to see the performers, the mysterious, talented troupe of misfits. Or so he'd read in the paper the day before. The way into the fairgrounds was through a giant gateway, shaped to look like a bear with its snarling jaw open, through which one would enter into the circus.

Jeremy watched a child and their mother casually stroll past the line, walk up to the box office, and enter the fair, past the throng of people waiting to get in to see the main event. Jeremy bounced up and down on his feet, impatient.

"Why can't we just pay to enter the fair first and just go into the tent when it starts?" he complained loudly.

Some people in the line looked over at him, confused to hear a grown adult whining like a child. Angie, who was mid-sentence with the friends of their parents', turned to him slowly, her bright eyes flashing.

"Jeremy, I was in the middle of a conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Fulton, do you mind waiting a moment?" she asked him through clenched teeth, glaring him down. Jeremy looked over at the couple; they were both elderly, with wiry white hair and thick glasses. Why on earth would they want to come to a circus…?

"No, it's quite all right," Mrs. Fulton said with a little smile, and turned around. Jeremy frowned. That was rude. Angie shook her head as he turned back to Jeremy, her fake smile gone.

"Do you mind?" she hissed at him quietly. "Why are you so impatient all of a sudden?"

"I don't know, I just am," Jeremy replied, exhaling loudly through his nose as he checked his watch. "It's supposed to start at eight thirty, that's what the flyer said… they're five minutes late."

"They're probably just setting up… what's with you today, Jere?" Angie asked, looking at him with sincerity in her eyes. She seemed genuinely worried, and that bugged Jeremy more than anything.

"I'm fine, I'm just bored of waiting," he answered as coolly as he could. He didn't know what it was, but something about that circus kept him on edge. He couldn't seem to relax.

A loud trumpet trill caught everyone's attention, and both Fitzgerald siblings looked up. The man at the box office was waving, holding his horn up. "We will now be seating for the main stage events!" he shouted in a big, grandiose voice. "Please have your cash ready by the time you reach the counter. Sorry for the delay!"

The line all started whispering excitedly as they moved forward, inch by inch. Jeremy had a bill clenched in his fist, wrinkled and old. He looked over the heads of the people in the throng easily because of his height, and watched as they went in, one by one.

"Hi there! Would you like a balloon?"

A voice very close to him made Jeremy jump. He glanced to his left first and nearly started again out of surprise. Standing strangely close to him was a tall man, dressed in a full black bodysuit with a white mask covering his face. The mask was eerily creepy, with bright red cheeks, a gaping, toothless black smile, and, worst of all, dark, black eye holes. As he gazed into them he realized he couldn't even see the glimmer of white eyes behind them… were they just painted on? How did the man see? Long trails of what appeared to be purple tears extended from the eye holes to the mouth, making it seem as though the mask were crying while laughing.

The voice was childlike, however, and didn't fit the strange mime man, who held a giant bunch of helium balloons in one hand. Jeremy opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted once more by the voice.

"Hello?"

Jeremy looked down. Indeed, the voice came from a little boy, short and adorable, with a red and blue-striped shirt and a propeller hat to match. He held a single blue balloon in his hand, grinning up at Jeremy with his bright red cheeks.

"Would you like a balloon?" the child asked again.

Jeremy frowned. "Um, I'm sorry, I'm just going into the –"

"Come on, have a balloon!" the child insisted.

The line was progressively moving quicker and quicker, and soon he would be in the fairgrounds. But something about the child and his masked accomplice terrified Jeremy. He took the balloon that the boy held out.

"Thanks," he stammered.

He was about to turn around and keep walking when the child spoke again. "That'll be two dollars!"

Jeremy turned back. "What…?"

"Two dollars for a balloon, sir!" the little balloon boy exclaimed. With a slight twinge of fear, Jeremy noticed that the kid's face had barely changed expressions during their entire conversation… like a mask.

"I don't –"

"Two dollars please!" the balloon boy said, even louder. He was just a few people away from the box office, and Angie wasn't paying attention; however, everyone behind him in line seemed to be, and were looking angry. He didn't want to cause a scene, and he certainly didn't want to lose his place in line to spend time with the creepy duo. Giving a furtive glance to the masked man, he plucked two dollar bills from his wallet and handed them to the kid quickly.

"Thank you!" the boy exclaimed, and turned to wander further down the line. The mime waited a little longer to leave, and kept staring at Jeremy for a while, even when the cop turned to keep walking towards the box office.

When he got to the desk, he was already distracted, disturbed by the interaction with the strange child and the masked man. He handed his money over to the box office man absent-mindedly and held his hand out for his ticket, but when he tried to pull it away, his found it would not give.

His head spun around to look at the man. He was a carny, with a big moustache and a bright striped leotard… but he looked into Jeremy's eyes as though there was a secret there. A dark secret.

"We've got a great show for you tonight, sir," the man said, his voice deep and growly, while his gloved hand still pinched the ticket firmly, preventing Jeremy from leaving. As he dramatically pulled his hand away from the ticket and gave Jeremy his change, he winked up at him. "Enjoy yourselves."

"Thank you," Angie responded for him, grabbing his arm. Gently, she pulled him towards the gate, while Jeremy's eyes still stayed locked with the box office man's.

As they walked under the giant bear-themed gate, Jeremy shivered uncontrollably and felt his stomach drop. He almost felt as though he were walking through the gates of hell.

Something was definitely off about the circus.

"Whoa, what's wrong with you?" Angie asked, pulling him closer and stopping him out of the way of the gravel path. "Jeremy, look, are you okay? You've been acting so strangely… we can go home if that's what you want."

Jeremy shook his head. He realized he felt a little nauseous, and knew it would be best to go home… but he didn't want to leave. There was something here that he was missing, and as bad as his impressions were, he didn't want to leave without at least getting a hint of it.

She seemed to doubt him, but after a little persuasion, she simply pursed her lips and kept leading him towards the tents.

In the very centre of the grounds were the three great big, tented arenas. The two smaller ones – both about forty feet tall anyway – were on their left and right, and the one directly in front of them, a little further away, was the largest: the big top. The gravel road they'd been travelling on maneuvered through the grounds until it split into three in the middle, where there was a big wooden sign… and a strange man.

One sign identified the biggest tent as the main stage, while the one on the left was the side stage. The one on the right was billed as the Pirate Cove, but a big "CLOSED" sign had been slapped on over it. Jeremy looked over. The curtains leading into the Pirate Cove tent had been pinned together loosely, blocking anyone from entering.

The man they passed was dancing wildly, shaking his shoulders and waving his arms around in different directions; the man had scars all over his face, pulling and distorting his features into a grotesque smirk. The poor man was wearing a scrappy, ripped-up golden suit that looked as though he'd been attacked by a wild animal. Jeremy tried not to stare as they approached.

"So? What do we see first?" Angie asked. She looked down at a program she'd found along the way. "Hmm… the main event is first, in the big top, which seems strange... do you wanna see that first, or do you want to look around the grounds first, see the secondary event, and then see the main event? There're two showings a night…"

Jeremy shook his head. "No use wasting time… let's see the main event."

Angie closed the program and nodded decisively. "Big top it is."

With the rest of the crowd, they marched in a line towards the big, looming tent. As they passed the dancing man, Jeremy locked eyes with him. There was something in those eyes… the man looked terrified.

"Jeremy, your balloon!"

Jeremy looked away and realized he'd released the balloon. He watched it float into the twilight sky, further and further, the blue mixing into the hazy purple clouds… few people in the line seemed to notice. It was too late to catch it. He looked down at Angie and shrugged helplessly, keeping up with the pace of the line and leaving the strange dancing man behind. A waste of two dollars.

The guests oddly became quiet as they entered the tent, looking around curiously. The stage was a big circle with rickety wooden bleachers stretching around it in a semi-circle, protected by a big wire gate; big, thick red curtains blocked off the backstage. The lighting was gloomy, illuminated only by a crowd of bare lightbulbs suspended from the rafters of the tent by thin strings; it looked as though the stage was lit by a swarm of big, bright bugs. Jeremy and Angie continued following the crowd into the bleachers, and found themselves just a row from the top with no one behind them. Jeremy leaned back, resting on the bench behind him.

Almost the instant that the last person was seated, the lightbulbs flashed off. A couple of shrill screams met the sudden darkness, followed by nervous giggling as they realized what was happening. A thin line of golden light, streaming through the tent flaps from the circus grounds, was suddenly cut off as someone clipped the flaps closed.

The crowd remained in darkness for only a minute, although it felt as long as an hour. In the complete and utter blackness, Jeremy tried opening and closing his eyes, testing if he could see… he blinked so rapidly that eventually he lost track of whether his eyes were closed or not. Bizarre shapes formed from the shadows, swimming before his eyes, whether they were closed or not. In his ears, the distant cheering and screaming of excited children pressed quietly, as though it were a world away… and he felt cold, as though a winter breeze had wafted into the big top after them, in the middle of summer.

And then, as suddenly as the darkness had descended upon them, a spotlight flashed on from somewhere behind Jeremy. He jumped as the switch clicked loudly, cutting through the hushed, settled air within the tent. Squinting, Jeremy followed the stream of light as it cut down into the very centre of the stage. A big, wooden dais had been placed in the middle, just large enough to catch the whole circle of light. For a few moments that stretched out into an infinity, the crowd waited with bated breath for something to happen.

A low growl emerged from the darkness. Jeremy could hear the chorus of gasps echo through the tent as a giant, furry paw stomped into the circle of light.

It was a bear. Slowly, with its hair standing up in anger, it padded onto the wooden dais, growling and snarling. Several shouts of concern arose from the crowd as the creature bared its ferocious teeth, spittle flying from its maw. A woman screamed, her high-pitched wail only attracting the bear's attention. The animal stretched its jaw open and roared loudly, only increasing the screams.

_That's it_, Jeremy thought, his eyes wide in terror. _That's what killed Fritz._

And then the stage flooded with light and sound. Various light fixtures around the tent burst into life, illuminating the gloomy stage. Exciting circus music played from big, fancy-looking speakers on either side of the curtain that Jeremy was certain had not been there before. Performers leapt onto the stage, dressed in flamboyant outfits and glittery headpieces, twirling batons and balancing on big rubber balls. Streamers and ribbons flew everywhere as the beaming dancers twirled, leapt and spun around the stage. The bear roared and growled, waving its big head around wildly; it was obviously much larger than any regular specimen, and its teeth were as ferocious as ever, but surrounded by all the lights and colour it seemed much less intimidating. The crowd exhaled as one, relieved and thankful for the break in the tension, and began to applaud. Even Angie laughed, clapping her hands together cheerfully. But Jeremy still felt that cold nothingness inside of him.

The lightbulbs flickered on and off like fireflies as the dancers filed into a line, one by one, then moulded to the semicircle of the audience, leaving the bear in the very centre. They all began to clap in rhythm as the bear continued to growl and roar, circling the dais. Then, the curtains in the back parted.

The man who emerged looked almost as big as the bear. He was tall and wide, wearing a stark black tuxedo and tailcoat and a matching bowtie with a top hat on his head. His hair was short and dark brown, just a shade lighter than the dark, curvaceous moustache on his face. Jeremy suspected it was a fake. His thick eyebrows wagged exuberantly as he stepped forward, approaching the bear with a long cane in one hand and a wireless microphone in the other.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" the man announced in a big, booming voice. "Welcome to the Fantastic Fazbear Family Circus!"

The crowd cheered and clapped wildly. The man stepped onto the dais and the bear moved to the side, snapping a little in irritation. The top hat man frowned and tapped the bear with the cane. "Don't mind this big fella, folks! This is the famous Fazbear… and I am his proud daddy, Freddy Fazbear!"

The Fazbear pushed off of its front legs and balanced on its big back legs, easily towering over its trainer by at least five feet. It was an absolute monster. Freddy grabbed the bear's big paw with his free hand, ignoring the four-inch claws of the circus beast, and the odd couple took a bow, both bending over deeply. The bear fell back onto its four legs, growling.

"Let's get started now, shall we?" Freddy announced. He stepped off the dais and the bear followed dutifully, swinging its head side to side. One of the dancers, dressed in a spandex two-piece and big gloves, rolled forwards in a cartwheel and hopped up, holding a strange loop up in the air. Another brought forward a giant spring, placing it just behind the dais. Freddy led the bear onto the opposite side of the arena of the big loop and set the creature in a line with the spring and the hoop.

"Alright, old chap! Light 'er up!" Freddy shouted.

The performer, with a wide, pristine grin, reached into the waistband of his pants. In one quick, fluid motion, he pulled out his hand and waved it into the air with a sharp noise. A single match burned in his hand. Carefully, he set it against the loop, which quickly caught fire; the performer held onto it confidently, his gloves immune against the flames.

_"__Hyaaa!"_ Freddy barked, like an equestrian egging on his steed. He expertly snapped his cane against the Fazbear's rump. A load roar burst from the beast's snarling muzzle as it started to dash forward.

The Fazbear galloped in a beeline to the spring, leaping on expertly. Predictably, the big, furry brown mammal went flying into the air, straight towards the flaming hoop in an almost comical fashion. The performer adjusted the hoop to the left by just a few inches as the monster soared towards him, and ducked low. The big grizzly bear flew through the hoop like a trained dog, landing on the ground behind it and crashing into the gate protecting the audience. The crowd on the side closest to it shrieked, startled by the loud noise it made, while the rest of the audience shouted in approval and clapped wildly.

Freddy Fazbear bowed low again, holding his cane out. As he rose, those dark eyes, shadowed by the brim of his top hat, seemed to search the audience, landing on Jeremy for just a brief moment before continuing. It was only for a brief second, but the moment that their eyes connected, Jeremy felt a shiver down his spine.

The act continued for another half hour. Freddy himself did very little, only egging on the bear and encouraging it whenever necessary. The Fazbear itself performed incredible feats, from twirling a hoola hoop on its hips to riding a unicycle, all the while roaring and growling ferociously. The crowd adored every second of it.

Once the bear's act was finished, Freddy led it back to the dais in the middle. The two stepped on and once more they bowed, with the Fazbear balancing on its two hind legs. Freddy waved his cane in the air as the crowd cheered wildly, an impressed grin on everyone's face… everyone but Jeremy. He just clapped steadily, never removing an eye from the bear.

The dancers began to twirl and dance once more, leaping around the stage elegantly, presumably to bridge the gap between the acts. Freddy Fazbear remained on the dais while one of the other performers held a hand out to the large grizzly bear.

Instead of following the performer, the Fazbear let out a wicked growl. Some of the crowd gasped as the hairs on the back on its neck stood up menacingly, spittle foaming from the corners of its mouth. Its bright teeth shone from between its furled lips. The performer, trying to keep cool, simply waited, its hand held out as though it were escorting someone from a coach. Freddy didn't seem to notice.

However, the bear didn't budge. After a few seconds, however, a louder growl ripped from its mouth and it raised a big arm and swiped at the performer. The woman, dressed in sparkling attire, screamed and leapt backwards, almost losing her balance. The entire crowd gasped, and one person screamed. Freddy looked over, frowning. The performer held a hand to her stomach, where a tear in her costume had been made, and blood was beginning to stain the outfit.

The crowd started to grow quiet, noticing the terrible accident. Freddy expertly flicked the cane on the bear's rump again, but the bear only swung its head around and roared even louder. Half of the audience screamed, and many stood up as though to escape. The dancers stopped twirling and moving exuberantly, instead standing in shock, gazing at the ruckus with wide eyes.

_"__Oi!"_ Freddy yelped, his eyebrows furrowed menacingly. He flicked the cane right at the bear's face and seemed to catch it in the eye. With a loud groan, the bear staggered back and slipped off the dais, nearly falling. The expression on the Ringmaster's face was terrifying, almost scarier than the bear itself. He looked ready to pounce on the bear himself.

"Take our friend back to his cage!" he shouted at two of the performers, while the injured one hurried off. The scratch didn't look too serious; not much blood was leaking, and she seemed more embarrassed than injured. The other performers swiftly grabbed the bear by what must have been a collar around its neck, hidden by its scruffy brown fur, and yanked it back towards the curtains. As it left, its head bowed, Freddy Fazbear straightened his bowtie and flashed a winning grin towards the audience.

"My apologies, good friends!" he shouted. "The Fazbear just seems to be a little overwhelmed at the moment. No matter! Now we will continue on with our next act… may I present to you all the most magnificent magician known to man, Mr. Bonnie Lapin himself!"

The dancers continued their twirling as Freddy Fazbear took his exit, marching to the curtains in the back. The music blared, loud and joyful, as one dancer placed two strange loop on the dais, one on top of the other. And then, suddenly, all dancers but the one ducked down low, pausing in their spots, their heads down as if in prayer. The music hushed, and was replaced by a loud drum roll. Expertly, the dancer scooped under the topmost loop and pushed it up into the air. It rose, dragging a red-and-white striped curtain up with it, making a long, horizontal tunnel between the two loops. The drum roll continued as the curtain remained up for a few seconds until it dropped down as suddenly as it appeared, revealing a man.

The crowd cheered. The man took a deep bow. He looked strange, with dark skin and a shock of indigo hair. He wore purple slacks and a waistcoat with his plain white shirtsleeves underneath. A big, bright red bowtie hung around his collar.

"Thank you all for coming," the man said in a loud, clear voice, unsupported by a microphone unlike Freddy. The pure sound of it sent shivers down Jeremy's back. The magician had broad shoulders and a fit body, with muscular arms that rippled at every movement. He was almost as tall as Freddy had been, and quite attractive, with an elegantly lined face that seemed to suggest he was no older than fifty.

"He's very handsome," Angie whispered to Jeremy as the crowd applauded and the dancers flooded off.

Jeremy frowned. He was handsome, but seemed quite pretentious with that wide smirk he held on his face. Bonnie reached behind him and whipped out a pair of bright purple gloves that he pulled on as the crowd calmed down.

"Now, many of you may have seen magic shows before," the magician reasoned, the smirk still plastered on his perfectly tanned face, "but allow me to just say… this is no show, my friends. Tonight… you will be subject to true magic in its purest form. Allow me to show you."

Bonnie then bent down and slipped a hand under the topmost ring, like the dancer had moments before. In one swift movement he stood up and scooped his hands upwards, sending the ring into the air. It didn't, however, stay straight this time; only for a moment it stayed up and then came crashing down again. By the time it did, however, there was a black top hat in Bonnie's hand, much like the one Freddy Fazbear had been wearing.

The second act lasted even longer than the first, but it was far more entertaining; Bonnie Lapin was a true magician. At first he began with standard fare, such as summoning a bright purple rabbit from the hat and making it disappear, but slowly he began doing more and more unusual and impossible tricks. By the end, there were five of the mysterious curtained hoops around the stage, each with an assistant next to it; two would push their curtains up and before they fell again, Bonnie would have teleported from one to another.

"How on Earth does he do that?!" Angie gasped, smiling enthusiastically. Jeremy felt a little calmer around the magician, but still there was something in that smirk that made him a little uneasy… as though there were some big secret that they were all a part of, without even knowing.

Finally, Bonnie disappeared as he had arrived; with a low bow, he accepted his applause, then tossed his ringed curtain up and was gone. The crowd stood to give him an ovation, hoping for more, but instead Freddy Fazbear returned, his hat gone. It could have just been Jeremy's eyes, but it looked as though the Ringmaster looked a little irritated.

"And now, for the last show of the evening!" Freddy announced in his big voice, booming through the microphone, as soon as he reached the dais. "And now, I present to you… the star of our show… the Iron-Throated Woman herself, and my beautiful wife – Chica Fazbear!"

The next act appeared from the curtains as well to loud applause. She seemed to be only half the height of Freddy, but at least the same girth; draped in a long yellow gown with her bright blonde hair pulled up, she looked like a plump, elegant hen. She stepped onto the dais, where Freddy bent down and kissed her awkwardly, more than doubled down to reach her face. When he departed and the applause died down, she removed the heavy white fur scarf from her neck and tossed it aside with her gloved hands, revealing a white bib; on it were the words "Let's Eat!" Some of the audience laughed as she gave them a knowing smile.

"Let's get right to it then, shall we?" she said with a deep sigh as an assistant rushed forward. He was carrying a big golf club bag filled with long swords. She carefully picked one out and examined it.

"Now, I will swallow this sword right before your very eyes!" she said in a loud, phoney voice. Her heavily made-up face caused her to look a little like a clown, and her gushing tone bothered Jeremy. He leaned back and crossed his arms.

"Don't try this at home, kids," she added in a throbbing, knowing tone. "That all being said… let's eat!"

She then proceeded to lean her head backwards, her wide mouth open, so as to make a passage as straight as possible from her lips to her stomach. Then, very carefully, she lifted the blade and set the sharp point between her teeth. She seemed to steel herself for a moment before she carefully guided it down, to the shocked gasps of many audience members.

Even Jeremy was a little surprised as half of the sword's blade was lodged in her throat. But at that moment she stopped moving it, and Jeremy thought he could see a look of panic in her eyes. The audience grew hushed, sensing something dangerously wrong. Chica made a little squawking noise, followed by a strange, strangled little cough. To the horrified gasps and screams of the audience, she proceeded to pull the sword as quickly as possible from her esophagus, surely cutting something within her throat along the way.

Once the sword was out, the woman took a deep breath and doubled over, coughing and holding her throat. The entire audience was on the edge of their seats, shocked and afraid. But from behind Jeremy there came a small laugh.

Jeremy's head spun around. On the top bench just a little to his right, where there had been absolutely nobody before, there sat an entire entourage of people, most of them hidden in the dark shadows. The one nearest to Jeremy, the one who had laughed, was Bonnie Lapin himself, the magician.

Jeremy's eyes widened. Bonnie's act had just ended, and the stairs up to the seats were right next to him. There would be no way for them to climb them without Jeremy noticing… and yet there they were, a whole troupe sitting in a line. Bonnie glanced down at Jeremy in the corner of his dark eyes and smirked, sending a shiver down the officer's spine.

"What?" the magician said defensively in a low tone. "It's a little funny, don't you think? I get that useless, cushy middle spot while that tasteless hen over there gets the finale act… all because of that smelly clam between her legs." Bonnie chuckled and leaned back, resting his arms on the thin barricade that protected the audience from falling from the back row. "Life's funny that way, no?"

The magician pulled a cigarette from the pocket of his waistcoat and stuck it in his mouth. Instinctively, the person next to him, covered in shadow, moved closer with a lighter. As the fire lit, it splashed an orange light across his face… revealing it to be the dancing man from outside of the tent. All scars and distorted features, the strange man seemed to grin at Jeremy… all the while, Bonnie leaned over and lit his cigarette in the steady flame.

Even after Bonnie had lit his cigarette and was puffing away gracefully, like some fifties movie star, the dancing man kept the lighter aflame. Then, without his gaze wavering, his other hand came forth from the shadows. In it was the blue helium balloon that Jeremy had released.

Jeremy looked at it, then carefully took it. Bonnie chuckled. "Wouldn't wanna lose that," the magician smirked.

Jeremy held the balloon tightly as the lighter's flame went out and Bonnie returned to watching the show. Nervous and shocked, the police officer turned forwards again, glancing over at Angie. She hadn't been paying attention to any of the exchange, despite being right next to him… how couldn't she have heard?

He looked back down at the stage. Chica was gone, replaced by Freddy Fazbear once more. There were no more dancers, no more music… nothing. Just him, standing on the wooden dais, gazing up into the audience… right at Jeremy. The audience was silent, and that cold, empty feeling descended over him once more. It was as though Jeremy had slipped into a nightmare, silent and steady, where nothing existed but him and the Ringmaster.

Jeremy looked back at Angie. She had no expression. She was just watching Freddy steadily, blinking every once in a while. What was happening…?

"And that concludes our evening, ladies and gentlemen," Freddy said in his big, booming voice. Jeremy looked back; Freddy still seemed to be staring right at him. He felt an icy fist grip at his stomach, making him shiver in fear. "Please enjoy the fairgrounds or the side stage for more entertainment. Thank you all for coming."


End file.
